Contents
Title Page
Copyright
The Defiant Brides Series
Newsletter Information
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Duke of Thorns
Defiant Brides
Book 5
Jennifer Monroe
Copyright © 2019 Jennifer Monroe
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The Defiant Brides Series
The Duke’s Wager
The Spinster’s Secret
The Duchess Remembers
The Earl’s Mission
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Chapter One
The brambles, horrible pests which had taken over the once lovely patch of garden, were everywhere, much to Cecilia Birks’ dismay, taking away a brightness from the world and leaving chaos in their wake.
Cecilia sighed heavily as she laid the blanket down beside the earthen bed and knelt down. In her hand she held a pair of snips and she sat back on her calves as she surveyed the task before her. There was so much to do, and the thought of performing the task overwhelmed her. However, it was something which needed to be done, for there was no one else to do it.
At one time, Brightstone Manor had employed a head gardener, a thin man with just a few wisps of hair on his head, and two assistants, and the trio had kept the gardens as trim and tidy as any of the homes of the nobility. However, over the course of time, beginning first with the assistant gardeners and finally the head, each man was dismissed. Even Mullins, their ever-faithful butler, had been relieved of his duties, leaving the family with the housekeeper and a single cook. The dismissals had not come about due to poor performance on the part of the servants, but rather for the practical matter that servants cost money. The one thing the Birks lacked.
Doing her best to not allow the thorns to stab her, Cecilia reached in and snipped at the closest stem. It took several tugs on Cecilia’s part to pull the weed free of its neighbors—not an easy task as they seemed to enjoy each other’s company quite well. However, it finally loosened, and she set it to the side only to reach for the next stem.
Cecilia’s father, Mr. Hugh Birks, had been a man of great wealth, having struck his fortune investing in tin mines in Cornwall and had found great success. However, Mr. Birks wished to expand his holdings by investing in capricious speculation, much to the chagrin of his wife. In the end, her father was left with a single mine, which produced just enough to keep the family clothed and fed and not much else.
Cecilia’s sister Violet had married four years earlier and now lived in a magnificent manor in London. Violet could not wait to leave the quiet solitude of country living, and when word reached her that her family was in financial straits, her letters dwindled to the point that it had been three months since anyone had received word from her. Apparently, the unfortunate situation in which the Birks family found themselves was an embarrassment to the now Lady Violet Tamsley.
Cecilia, however, did not feel the shame her older sister felt. In fact, she was determined to do something to rectify the situation. In her mind, life was like the brambles before her, and sometimes, if you snipped away at the bad things, surely good things would replace them.
“Miss Birks?” a kind voice said, startling Cecilia from her thoughts.
When she saw who spoke, she smiled and then rose, dusting the dirt from her gloved hands. “Walter,” she said, addressing the man who had been their head gardener up until today. The man was over sixty years of age, and Cecilia could recall a time when the silver hair was dark. Yet, that had been years before, when times were much happier.
“Miss Birks, I was gettin’ ready to leave and I just wanted to say goodbye to you.” The smile he offered her was as kind as it had ever been.
“I shall miss you,” she said as she tried to maintain her own smile. “I hope you find work soon.” Cecilia had worried about the man’s welfare, for a man of his late years would find it more difficult to obtain employment. However, her father had seen that the man had a strong letter of reference to see him off.
“Shouldn’t be a problem, Miss,” the man said as he straightened his back. “I just wanted to thank you for showin’ me such great kindness.” He cleared his throat and glanced around. “Well, I best be goin’.”
As he turned to leave, Cecilia said, “One moment, if you please.” She reached into her pocket and produced a handkerchief she had made for him, his name embroidered in dark blue in the corner. When she handed the cloth to him, she swore she saw a tear in the corner of his eye.
“Oh, Miss Cecilia, this is so kind, but I can’t accept it; it’s too beautiful for someone of the likes of me.”
“Of course you must accept it,” Cecilia said as if the idea of him not doing so was out of the question. “It has your name on it. What would I do with a handkerchief with ‘Walter’ stitched on it?” She placed a hand on his arm. “Please, accept it; it would hurt me deeply if you did not.”
The man nodded as he carefully folded the square piece of cloth and placed in the inside pocket of his worn coat. “I thank you for that.” There was that glistening in his eye again.
Although she knew it would not be considered lady-like, Cecilia gave the man a hug. “I will miss you,” she said into his coat. “Do take care.”
Walter patted her on the back awkwardly before she pulled out of the embrace. “I always do,” he replied. “And good luck with those brambles.” And just like all the other servants, all friends in Cecilia’s mind, he turned and walked away.
With a heavy heart, Cecilia returned to her task of snipping and clearing away the brambles. She wiped away at a tear that escaped her eye before she reached out to grab another of the thick vines.
At one point throughout the day, she glanced at the sky and was thankful for the few clouds that blocked the hot sun that beat down on her. The wide-brimmed hat she wore helped to keep the sun off her face and neck, but it did little to keep her body cool under her dress.
As the small pile of brambles grew, hope coursed through her, bringing a smile to her face and a song from her lips. Soon she found a steady rhythm with the snips to match the notes of her songs. She felt pride swell in her as she made progress through the harsh weeds, and soon she had a patch of earth large enough in which several people would be able to stand. Although the task would take at least a fortnight, it was a challenge she eagerly awaited.
“Cecilia!” her father boomed from down the path. “Get away from there this instant.”
Cecilia jumped, just as her heart had, and she rose and turned to face her father. His face was a bright red and his fist was clenched at his side.
“Whatever do you think you are doing?” he demanded.
“The brambles,” she sa
id, “they have taken over the flowerbed and I have decided to clear them. Come next spring, we shall have our flowers back.”
Rather than responding with words, her father reached out and yanked the snips from her hand. “How dare you embarrass me in this way,” he said in a voice that was low and threatening. It had been quite some time since Cecilia had seen him so angry, and she was puzzled by his reaction to the project she had taken in hand.
“Father, how did I…”
He raised a hand to silence her. “My daughter does not sit on her hands and knees like a servant,” he ranted. “Do you not realize the shame that would befall us if anyone saw you? But knowing you did this to spite me is unthinkable!”
Cecilia was shocked. Could the man not understand that she only wished to get rid of the old to bring in the new?
However, he did not allow her a moment to explain. “Do not ever attempt to perform the work of a servant again, or I shall have you thrown out into the streets with the rest of them!”
Tears filled her eyes as she watched her father stomp away, the tool still in his hand. How could she have hurt him so deeply by simply completing a task which needed to be done? Attempting to hold back the tears was futile and she allowed them to flow as she made feeble attempts to wipe them away as quickly as possible.
“Cecilia?” Mrs. Esther Birks said as she walked up to her daughter.
Cecilia looked up through misty eyes as her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. “I only wished to make the garden beautiful once again,” she said in a quiet voice. “Why has this angered him so?”
Her mother smiled, the lines in the corners of her eyes appearing more pronounced than they had even a month ago. “Your father has always wanted the best for us all. For him to see his own daughter doing the work a servant should be doing is a bitter reminder that all he once had is now gone. It breaks his heart having to see you do this. Do you understand?”
Cecilia nodded, still wiping the tears from her eyes. “I suppose so. Yet, could I not at least continue to remove the brambles? It might anger him now, but come next spring when the flowers are in full bloom, the sight will surely make it worth the effort.”
Her mother sighed and then pulled her in for an embrace. “My dear, I am afraid there will be no spring for us here.”
“What?” Cecilia asked as she pulled herself from the arms that held her. Her blood had run cold at her mother’s words. “I do not understand.”
“Your father has decided that we must sell Brightstone Manor to pay off the debt he has incurred. We will be moving to his brother’s, your Uncle Nathaniel in Cornwall, until your father is able to reestablish himself once again. We simply can no longer afford the upkeep on this house.”
Sadness and grief enveloped Cecilia. She had known no other home, and all her memories of happiness were here. The thought of leaving brought about a heaviness to her soul.
“Come, my dear,” her mother said as she placed an arm around Cecilia’s shoulders. “Let us go inside the house. It is much too hot out here.”
As they walked away, Cecilia took one more look over her shoulder. The brambles not only represented an overtaking of the flowerbeds; they also represented an overtaking of her life.
Chapter Two
Benjamin Young, 5th Duke of Thornbrook, was better known as The Duke of Thorns by those who discussed him when he was not in their presence. However, Benjamin made no attempt to halt those who spoke of him in this way, for, in all honesty, he found the epithet appropriate. Life, in his opinion, had to be led in the prickliest manner if one was to achieve the greatness which he, himself, had achieved.
He sighed as his carriage hit yet another rut in the road, causing him to rock in his seat precariously. The trek from his family home of Bantry Estate in Bandford to Sturminster, both located in Dorset in the South of England, could have been smoother if he had instructed his driver to follow the main road. However, had they done so, it would have taken him twice as long to complete the journey, and he hated to waste time. The less-used road was a more direct route, but it made for a less-than-comfortable ride. Yet, life was full of annoyances such as the ruts, and much to his frustration, he had to go out of his way to meet one of those annoyances today. An annoyance by the name of Mr. Hugh Birks.
Birks once made a fortune controlling mines and properties, and for a man with no title, he had done quite well for himself. However, the man became greedy and had quickly lost his fortune, or most of it. He claimed that his coffers were still full and that he was simply reorganizing by leaving the mining business and focusing solely on the properties. Yet, Benjamin knew better and understood the man to be lying.
At the age of one and twenty, Benjamin had grown the fortune left to him to heights of which his father would have been proud, if he were still alive. Josiah Young had passed away much too young, and Benjamin knew he, himself, was to blame.
Anger coursed through Benjamin as he shoved grief and guilt aside, placing them into a box in the back of his mind. Obsessing over something that had already happened would get him nowhere, and at the moment he needed to prepare himself for the meeting ahead.
Once back under control, Benjamin returned his thoughts to Hugh Birks and the reason for the upcoming meeting. The man owed him money from a private loan, a gentleman’s agreement sealed not by written contract but by their word and a handshake. Benjamin should have known better; he was a better businessman than that. However, the man had convinced him that he could return the money, with interest, in a reasonable amount of time—a much shorter time than a written agreement would have warranted.
That had been several months ago, much longer than the agreed upon time, and now Benjamin was ready to collect from the fool. And the man was a fool, for he had a great asset in his daughter Miss Cecilia Birks.
Just thinking of the woman brought a smile to his lips. With her honey-colored hair and more than handsome features, her words were as sweet as honey and her beauty rivaled that of any woman of title. Yet, what had caught his attention above all else was the fierceness in her eyes, which were the color of forget-me-nots. The few times Benjamin had spoken to the woman, her smile had been kind and her manners impeccable. However, the message in her eyes had been clear: she had no interest in allowing him to court her, and if he had been given permission to do so, she would never marry him. She despised him. For what reason, he did not know, but her eyes told him so.
He laughed at this notion. For any man to comment on a woman’s eyes in such a way could be worrisome if it was said aloud, especially for a Duke to speak such absurdities. What did he care of her feelings toward him? He had no design to marry a woman of her standing, anyway.
Once he had met with Birks today, Benjamin planned to attend a party where a majority of the members of the ton would be dancing and enjoying each other’s company. His presence would draw the eye of every eligible woman, and he would select one to court. The woman would, of course, be overjoyed that a man such as himself had chosen her. To him, it was much like a butcher selecting the finest cut of meat.
He barked out an amused laugh at his own anecdote. That was what he was, a butcher. Not for his skills in carving but in his ability to select the finest cut to serve him at Bantry Estate.
***
The once white steps that led to the front door of Brightstone Manor were now coated with loose dirt and debris, and Benjamin looked upon them with dismay. If a man did not look after his home, surely that would carry over into other parts of his life.
The door opened to Mr. Hugh Birks, who greeted Benjamin with an ingratiatingly wide smile that did not meet his eyes. “Your Grace,” Mr. Birks said with a bow, “it is an honor, as always.” It had not passed Benjamin’s notice that the man had answered his own door.
Benjamin ignored the man’s offered hand and pushed past him into the small foyer, which was now devoid of paintings and vases that once adorned the space. The atmosphere was much like its owner: pathetic.
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��I understand that great fortune must be upon you,” Benjamin said as Mr. Birks closed the door behind them.
The man scrunched his brow. “Your Grace?” he said with a shake to his head. “Forgive me, but I do not understand.”
“Your wife and daughter are not here to greet me,” Benjamin said as he peered around as if to search for the missing family members. “One could only speculate that you have much finer guests in your home to allow such an insult.”
Of course, there was no such expectation, but Benjamin enjoyed seeing the discomfort his words caused the man. If the man had not owed him a debt, he likely would not have spoken to him in such a manner. Then again after some thought, Benjamin realized that, indeed, he probably would have. The man was below him after all.
Benjamin caught movement to his left and he turned to see the two aforementioned women enter the foyer. He merely glanced at Mrs. Birks; however, when his eyes fell on Miss Cecilia Birks, a strange desire to sweep the woman into his arms and carry her off rushed over him. He shook the feeling from his head as the two women gave him a deep curtsy.
“Miss Birks,” he said as he took her hand in his, “it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Your Grace,” Miss Birks said, her voice holding a sweetness that belied the emotion that emanated from her eyes, “it is a pleasure to have a man such as yourself in our home.”
He acknowledged her greeting with a stiff nod, but he wondered at her kind words, for they competed with that familiar disdain she held for him.
“I must apologize for our tardiness at greeting you at the door,” she continued, her lip turning up slightly in the corner. “Unfortunately, I had other, more important, things to attend to.”
Anger flashed through Benjamin as her eyes dared him to rebuke her. He wondered how her parents could allow her to speak to a man of his standing in such a manner. What the girl needed was to be taught a lesson.
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